


Interlude: turn that cherry out

by waldorph



Series: Illogical (√π233/hy7) [19]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-04
Updated: 2010-04-04
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waldorph/pseuds/waldorph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of George & Winona's adventures prior to Starfleet</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: turn that cherry out

**Author's Note:**

> for screamlet's prompt: _George/Winona, first time they go to South America (from the √π233/hy7 'verse)_

They're in a club somewhere in Brazil.   
  
That's about all he knows, but at least he knows the country. He puts it in the win column.   
  
It's swelteringly hot, bodies slick and thrumming against each other and he leans against the railing and watches the dance floor, strobing lights casting blues and greens and pinks over the crowd. The air is heavy with the spicy-sweet scent whatever everyone's smoking.   
  
George takes a pull of his beer and then heads down to the pit. It's dark and anonymous: he's not wearing a shirt and she's…well, she might as well not be. The girls who'd told them about this place had dragged her into a shop, and she'd come out with this ridiculous candy-colored bra and a school-girl style skirt that swayed when she walked but barely covered the curve of her ass, thigh-high stockings and boots that could kill a man. She looks like porn or a fetish, and he's  _his_.   
  
Of course, he's got a choke collar on, and she's using the leash like a belt (at the moment), so questions of ownership are negotiable.   
  
He's a slut for her: he can own that. He's seventeen and getting regular sex.   
  
He can find her easily; she's the one grinding between a couple—the one people  _watch_.   
  
He pulls her out, wraps an arm around her and rolls their hips.   
  
"I could go down on you right here," she says in his ear, "and no one would give a fuck."   
  
"Sweetheart," he laughs, and shoves her against the wall, sliding down her body, mouthing kisses between her breasts, down her stomach, her hands sliding into his hair as he kisses one thigh and then the other, pushing the stupid little skirt that doesn't cover  _shit_  up and rubbing a thumb over her clit (god, she's  _dripping_  already), "No one wants to watch you suck my cock."   
  
"Oh, fuck," she says, like she's talking about the weather, and then cants her hips, slides a leg over his shoulder to give him better access and he has no clue if anyone's watching, but that someone has to be; that they all  _could_  be, makes him get all the way hard inside his stupidly tight pants.   
  
One hand is in his hair, the other clipping the leash onto his collar and god, he has to close his eyes for a second because he could come just from this.   
  
He starts on her clit, tonguing it and then brushing over with lazy licks. Strokes back, fucking into her with his tongue, going back to her clit when she yanks at his hair, rolling her hips against his face and he uses his thumbs, spreads her open, works her until her thighs are trembling and she's chanting a litany of curses above him that make him grin.   
  
Seals his mouth over her clit and  _sucks_ , flicking his tongue back and forth and she's coming, gasping and his scalp achesand the leash is cutting off his air supply but he licks her through it because she hates it; she's too sensitive and her hips jerk, twisting away from him helplessly until he finally pulls back, slides up her body and kisses her, pushing the skirt back down.  
  
She reaches down, unzips his fly and he's coming as soon as she's got her hand around him, painting that fucking skirt and both their stomachs, face pressed into her neck and panting, shuddering.   
  
"I like it here," she says, and he laughs, helpless, as the beat thrums through them and around them and the world comes rushing back into focus. He glances around, meets some amused and interested gazes, and sighs.   
  
"You're such a bad influence on me," he groans.   
  
"Wipe your face and get me a beer," she replies.   
  
Fuck, so far, South America's his favorite continent.


End file.
